Giving Up, Giving In
by iheartvolume
Summary: Tony knows that everyone hates him and that he doesn't deserve to live, and decides it's time to take matters into his own hands. Rated M for suicidal themes & later McNozzo SLASH good-ness! : Reviews not necessary, but REALLY REALLY appreciated. Thanks!
1. Giving Up, Giving In

**_A/N: This is NOT a one-shot._**

**Giving Up, Giving In**

Tony DiNozzo used to think that he was very rarely blind-sided by anything in life. He was a guy that had everything under control, had it all together, and God forbid anything threaten that.

That was until the biggest mistake of his life, a mistake that happened to be named Jeanne. It wasn't that Tony saw falling in love as a mistake per se, he just happened to fall for the wrong person. It was never part of the plan, and it had happened almost seemingly without Tony's knowledge. And that was the scariest part for him; that he could have lost all control over his life in such a major way.

Needless to say, things had fallen apart once Jeanne discovered the truth. Not long after, Le Grenouille had turned up dead, and Jeanne had blamed him. Jeanne truly believing that Tony would murder her father was the ultimate heartbreak for him. He still hadn't gotten over it. This was the first woman he had ever truly loved, so much so that he even considered giving up his bachelor status completely just to spend his life with her.

Alas, he was once again alone, except now he had a load of painful memories to carry with him, and worse still, he had yet to regain control of his life. At work every day he put on a mask of his former self, but once he started his car at the end of the day, the mask slipped away to reveal the truth: Tony DiNozzo was a complete and utter wreck, and no one had any idea.

And then NCIS Director Jenny Shepard had died, and it was his fault. No matter what anyone said to him, he knew he was to blame. He could see it on their faces, he knew what they thought, and he knew for sure that they all secretly hated him for letting their director be killed.

And then Vance had immediately separated Gibbs' team, tearing them all apart, spread across the globe. They had all been devastated, especially Abby. Those were Tony's thoughts on the way home from work after Vance had given the team their new assignments.

If it hadn't been for Tony… If he had only… If…

Tony was done. He couldn't take it anymore. Especially the guilt; that was the worst. He didn't deserve to live after all he had done. He had been stupid enough to fall in love with Jeanne and then broke her heart. The director was dead because of him, and now the team had been torn apart because of him. Everywhere Tony looked he saw only death and destruction, all by his hand. And the sheer pain of it all finally drove him over the edge.

Tony knew now that the world would be better off if he were dead. It should have been him, and not Jenny. He didn't deserve to be alive anymore. And after Jeanne, he had nothing left to live for. He just couldn't take all the pain, the guilt, the nightmares. It was too much, and he only wanted to end it. Make it all go away. He knew it would be easy. He had a gun on his belt. He would do it in the kitchen, so as not to stain the carpet. He almost wanted to laugh at the technicallity, but there was too much pain.

His car pulled into its spot at his apartment complex, and he entered his place. He wanted to go straight to the kitchen and pull the trigger but he stopped. He knew he should leave some sort of note. Tony was sure he had seen this in some movie, but in ever since Jenny's death he had been unable to formulate a single movie reference in his mind. He brushed it off and found a pen and paper.

Tony sat down at the table to write, and found that he couldn't think of anything to say. Everyone hated him, they would be glad he was dead. After some thought, he scribbled down the message and left it on the table in plain sight.

_I'm sorry for the pain I caused you all. Things will be better this way._

_-T._

He stood up and pulled his gun out of the holster, aiming at his head. Hands shaking violently, he cocked it, and pulled the trigger….


	2. Watch It Crash

**Watch It Crash**

Timothy McGee always took a practical approach when it came to life. He firmly believed that everything could be explained through science and deductive reasoning, and all his years at NCIS had proven this true time and time again. At least, until today.

He had never been one to act on gut instinct, but some part of him was screaming that something wasn't right.

'Well, of course something's not right,' he thought to himself, 'Director Shepard's dead and the team is being split up. Everything's completely _wrong_.'

But this part of him seemed to be saying that something else was out of place. He looked around the bullpen at all the long faces and tried to pinpoint what the problem might be.

Ziva, ever the fighter, was keeping her emotions hidden, trying to be practical. To her, it was simply another order. One that she may not like, but an order nonetheless.

Gibbs wasn't in the bullpen. He had spent a bit of time in Director Vance's office, and Tim had a feeling that there was a lot of yelling. Now he was down in Abby's lab.

Abby, Tim knew, was upset. Maybe that's what his gut was warning him about? No, that couldn't be it, because Gibbs was there. Gibbs was taking care of Abby.

With the exclusion of Ducky and Palmer, who were shut away in Autopsy, that left one person.

Tim turned and looked in the direction of Tony DiNozzo's desk, and he immediately knew that the anxiety in his gut was somehow related to the man behind the desk. Tony looked completely dead inside. His face was void of all emotion, and he looked… well, nothing like the Tony DiNozzo Tim knew.

Suddenly, Tony got up, grabbed his bag and headed for the elevator. Tim watched him go, trying to quell the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

He returned to packing up the contents of his desk, but after a good ten minutes of work he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with Tony.

Tim needed to do something, if only to get the feeling in the pit of his stomach to go away. He decided to make a run over to Tony's apartment, make sure everything was okay, and come back to the office to finish packing. That way he would be certain that Tony was fine. Or at least, as fine as Tony could be, considering the circumstances.

Grabbing his keys, Tim told Ziva that he had to run a quick errand and to expect him back in about an hour. She merely nodded, seemingly too emotional to do more than that. Now _that_ was something one didn't see every day: Ziva getting emotional. It hit Tim like a rock at that moment that the team was really being split up. How could Vance do this to them?

Sighing, he got into his car and made his way toward Tony's, all the while pondering the events of the past few days: Director Shepard's death, the funeral, the falsified press release. His heart felt heavier and heavier with each passing thought.

Tim made it to Tony's in a record twenty minutes. He sat in the car for a minute, trying to decide what exactly he was going to say to Tony in explanation for his sudden appearance. He knew that if he admitted his concern, Tony would see it as a weakness and tease him mercilessly. He sighed another deep sigh, wondering why he had even come in the first place.

At that precise moment, he heard a gunshot go off, the sound coming from the direction of Tony's apartment. Tim swung into action, grabbing his gun and practically running from his car, up the stairs to Tony's door. He pondered whether he should knock, and then realized that someone who had just fired a gun was rather unlikely to answer the door. He twisted the doorknob and found the door was unlocked. He quietly made his way inside the apartment, weapon at the ready.

There were no signs of any struggle in the entryway of the apartment. Listening intently, Tim heard no signs of any people. A million possibilities of what could have happened to Tony were running through his mind. Had he been kidnapped? Tim's heart was racing as he made his way into the living room. There was nothing unusual to be found, and still no sign of a shooter. Moving quietly down the hall, he checked the bedroom and bathroom, both empty.

He made his way slowly back out to the living room, thinking hard. He knew Tony was there; his car had been out front. That left one room to check. Tim edged toward the kitchen door, which was closed. Keeping his gun aimed with one hand, he slowly pushed open the door…

…and the gun in Timothy McGee's hand and fell to the floor as he stood there in pure shock.

"Tony?"

**A/N: Ooh, another cliffie! I'm evil, I know. Hopefully, update tomorrow or Wednesday. We'll see. :) Thanks for reading!**


	3. The Saddest Song

**A/N: I decided to post again tonight and put everyone out of their misery. Especially Tony. Poor guy doesn't even know if the author's going to kill him off yet. Lol. So here it goes. **

**But first, a big thanks to Beth, Susan, 344972 (whoever that is, lol) and FRT100 for your reviews! You motivated me to write this chapter, so it goes out to you. Keep the reviews coming! 3 :)**

**The Saddest Song**

"Tony?"

Timothy McGee felt like his entire world had just crumbled around him.

Tony DiNozzo was sitting on the kitchen floor, slumped against a cabinet, staring at the gun clutched in his hand.

"Tony! Are you okay?" Tim almost yelled. He immediately ran over to his friend and colleague. There were no signs of blood, but judging by the frightened and crazed look on Tony's face and the hole in his kitchen wall, it wasn't hard to figure out what happened.

But Tim couldn't believe it. Tony would never do something like this. 'I mean, this is _Tony_ we're talking about. _Tony._' Tim thought.

"Tony, what happened?" he asked shakily.

Tony's eyes slowly moved from the gun, up to Tim's face, and the look in his eyes broke Tim's heart.

"I screwed up again," Tony said softly. He looked back down at the gun. "I'm not supposed to be here right now. But I missed. God, I can't even end my own life right. I can't fucking do anything right."

Tony's gaze moved back to Tim, who felt like he was going to be sick.

"I can't fucking do anything right, McGee. I let everyone down, and they all hate me. And I'm too fucking selfish to get myself out of the way."

Suddenly, Tony broke into tears, his body shaking with sobs. And Tim did the only thing he knew he could do at the moment. He carefully removed the gun from Tony's hands, and he held him as tightly as he could as Tony's tears fell upon his shoulder.

Tim felt terrible that he had missed all the signs leading up to Tony's breakdown. He had never even stopped to think how much pain Tony must have been in after Jeanne, and now he was blaming himself Director Shepard's death… It wasn't a wonder that Tony had almost killed himself. He had been all alone, and noone had been there. Tim couldn't believe _he_ hadn't been there.

As he held Tony and let him cry, Tim started to work out what he should do next. Tony was obviously unstable. He was suicidally depressed, a condition that Tim was all-too-familiar with from personal experience when he was a teenager. Tim knew that Tony needed a doctor. He needed a therapist. He needed professional help. He knew that Tony needed to go to the hospital.

Tim almost wanted to laugh at this thought. He used to hate his stays at the hospital psych ward when he was a teen. He was depressed, he hated himself, and he was surrounded by people he didn't know. He felt terrible putting Tony in that situation, but he also knew that Tony needed far more help than McGee could give him tonight.

Making a promise to himself that he would do everything he could to help Tony get through this, Tim knew what he needed to do. It may not be his favorite option, but it was the best one for Tony, and that's all that mattered.

Slowly, Tim lifted Tony's face so that they were making eye contact.

"Tony, listen to me. You are not a failure, and I don't hate you. I care about you more than words can say. I know you're going through a rough time right now, but I'm going to be right by your side no matter what, and we'll get through this together."

"Y-you d-d-don't h-hate me?" Tony said between sobs.

"I could never hate you Tony. Now come on, we need to start getting you better."

Tim helped up his friend, and after finding Tony's keys and locking the apartment, they made their way down to Tim's car, and Tim began the drive to George Washington Hospital.


	4. A Better Place, A Better Time Pt1

**A Better Place, A Better Time: Part I**

The ride to the hospital was extremely quiet, other than Tony's occasional sniffles. Tim's hand hadn't left his since shortly after they had gotten in the car. It was Tim's way of constantly reminding Tony that he wasn't alone. As they made their way through downtown DC, Tony finally broke the silence.

"Where are we going?"

Tim sighed. He'd been dreading this question, because Tim hated the thought of telling Tony that he needed to be put in a psych ward. Because no matter how Tim tried to phrase it in his head, that's basically what it came down to.

So he responded simply with, "G.W."

Tony turned to look at him, confusion on his face.

"The hospital?"

Another sigh from Tim. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Tony, I said we were going to get you better. But you have to trust me."

"Probie, I trust you with my life. Not that it's much of a li-"

"Don't say that!" Tim cut him off. "Don't say that, cause it's not true."

Tony wanted to disagree, but the look on Tim's face warned against it, so he just fell silent again.

Tim mentally Gibbs-slapped himself. He hadn't meant to snap at Tony. Tim, of all people, knew what it was like to go through this, to feel what Tony was feeling. He couldn't be harsh with him.

So Tim decided to try a different approach.

With a deep breath he began.

"This guy was going for a walk one day, and he fell into a hole. So, he called out for help. A doctor came by, wrote him a prescription, tossed it into the hole, and walked on. But the man was still stuck in the hole. So again he called for help. A lawyer walked by, threw the guy a business card, and walked on. But he was still stuck in the hole. So once more, he called for help. This time a friend came by, and upon seeing his friend in the hole, jumped in and joined him. 'What are you, crazy?' the man asked. 'Now we're _both_ stuck in this hole!' 'Yes,' said the friend, 'but I've been here before, and I know the way out.'"

As he finished his story, Tim snuck a glance at Tony, and found he had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. His eyes opened slowly as he realized Tim's story was over, and he turned to look at him.

"So I'm guessing you're the friend who jumps in the hole?" he asked finally.

"I can be," said Tim. "But the thing is, you have to _want_ to get out of the hole. Otherwise there's nothing anyone can do for you."

There was silence for a moment.

"I don't want to die," Tony said shakily, "but I feel like I don't deserve to live."

"But you do, Tony. You do deserve to live. And I know you don't believe it right now, but it's the truth. I know how you're feeling, I do. But things will get better."

"How could you possibly know what this feels like, Probie? Have you ever held a gun to your own head?"

Tim took a harsh breath. "When I was sixteen I downed a bottle of my dad's blood pressure medication. When I was seventeen I stabbed myself in the chest. Three months later I tried to drown myself in the swimming pool in my backyard. I've been there and done that, Tony. Trust me, I know."

Tony was shocked. All those times he'd teased Tim, especially about what he was like as a teenager, and now… Tony felt even worse, if that was humanly possible.

"Tim, I-"

"Don't," Tim cut him off. "I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty. I just want you to know that I know what you're going through, and I'm going to help you get through it."

Tony nodded. There was another moment of awkward silence, before Tony asked what was currently running through his mind.

"So what will they do at the hospital?"

"Well, unless it's changed in the last ten years, we'll go to the emergency room, fill out paperwork, then we'll go sit in a waiting room, they'll take your vitals, then they'll send some one down from psych to evaluate you, and then depending on what that person decides, you'll either be admitted to psych or they'll advise you to see a therapist and maybe a psychiatrist and send you home with the condition that someone keeps an eye on you 24/7."

"Do I get a choice?" Tony asked.

"Uh… maybe. It depends on how serious they think the threat is. Why?"

"Cause I…" Tony paused. He couldn't believe he was going to say this out loud, to McGeek no less.

"I'd rather stay with you than be stuck in a psych ward."

"Oh," was all Tim could think to say. He was taken aback by Tony's statement.

"The hospital's not so bad, really. I mean- not- not that I don't want you to stay with me, I'd hate not being able to know how you were doing… I mean…" Tim was blushing by now.

"God, we sound like a gay couple," Tony joked.

Tim laughed a little. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Tony cracking jokes was a serious improvement.

"So why the psych ward, McProbie? Am I going crazy?" Tony said in a teasing tone, but Tim could tell that he was seriously worried that he _was_ going crazy.

"You're not going crazy, Tony. I'm not a doctor, but if I had to guess, I'd say you're suffering from PTSD."

"Uh… English, McGeek?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's really common among soldiers returning from battle. Basically you've been under enormous amounts of stress or experienced serious trauma."

"Oh," was Tony's response. "So because I've been through trauma, I want to kill myself?"

"Uh, well, that's simplifying it quite a bit. I can't really explain it much better than that. That would be Ducky's area."

Tony immediately started into a Ducky impression, babbling about something involving the brain. Tim smiled. He knew that Tony was trying hard to establish some sense of normalcy about the situation, so Tim wasn't going to interfere with that.

It took 15 minutes to find a parking spot in the Emergency lot before they finally made it inside.

'And the hard part hasn't even started yet,' Tim thought to himself, as he watched Tony hop playfully around the parking lot.

**A/N: Yes, this is a two-part chapter. This chapter happened to be much longer than the others, and the next one will probably be as well. Lots of stuff to cover. Lol. **

**Credit for Tim's story about the guy in the hole goes to, as far as I know, Aaron Sorkin. I got it from an episode of "The West Wing", Noel, from a conversation between Leo McGarry and Josh Lyman. In the episode, Josh is struggling with PTSD. **

**Both Tony and Tim might seem a bit OOC, but remember that Tony's suffering an emotional breakdown, something Tim is familiar with, so it's Tim's turn to play the mentor role, something we don't often see from him.**

**Thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful reviews. You guys keep me writing. Seriously. **

**I'm going to do a big thing at the end with everyone's names, so don't think I've forgotten about you all. **

**I'll try to keep these A/Ns shorter in the future, I just had lots to tell everyone. :)**

**Thanks for reading!!!**


	5. A Better Place, A Better Time Pt2

**A Better Place, A Better Time: Part II**

Tony continued to act like a child from the moment they got out of the car. It was how he had always handled stress. He just blew it off and fooled around. In high school, Tony's class-clown status was more an attempt to cover up for a slightly below average intelligence.

As they got closer and closer to the hospital doors, all Tony could think about was that he really didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be thrown in a room with padded white walls and observed through a window. He'd seen enough movies about psych wards and evil doctors to know what would happen. Maybe he could just convince Tim that he was fine, and they could all go home and laugh about this tomorrow.

Tony turned to Tim and said, "I don't think we need to bother with all this, I'm feeling just fine."

Tim sighed. It was evident from the look on his face that he'd been expecting this.

"Tony, you aren't fine. Less than an hour ago you tried to blow your brains out. You're anything _but_ fine."

Tony felt like he'd been slapped in the face. And slowly, reality came creeping back.

"Oh my God," he whispered, looking at Tim in horror. "I tried to kill myself. I almost _died_."

Tony stood frozen, unable to move, shaking as he tried to fight back the tears. He wouldn't cry in front of his Probie.

"It's okay, Tony. You're gonna get through this." Tim said softly.

Tony couldn't bring himself to look at Tim, feeling as weak and vulnerable as he was.

Then suddenly, another thought struck him and his stomach dropped.

"Oh my God, Gibbs is going to kill me!"

Back at NCIS headquarters, Ziva was still packing up the contents of her desk. Well, there wasn't much to pack, but she had re-packed her box four times just for something to do, and its contents were meticulously neat.

Gibbs approached, still looking frustrated and, well, like Gibbs. He stopped at the entrance to the bullpen, looked around, and then turned to Ziva.

"Where the hell are McGee and DiNozzo?"

Ziva froze, and looked up at the clock. McGee had told her to expect him back within an hour. It had been longer. It was unlike Tim to be late without calling. She bit her lip as she turned to Gibbs.

"McGee told me he had an errand to run and to expect him back within an hour, but he left around 1500 and has not called or returned. I had not noticed the lateness of the time until just now."

"And DiNozzo?" Gibbs questioned, annoyed.

"I have not seen Tony for quite some time. I figured perhaps he was with Abby."

"No, I was with Abby." Gibbs had a suspicion that something was awry with one or both of the men on his team, and he intended to find out. No matter what Vance said or did, they were still a team, a family, a unit, and they watched out for each other.

"Shall I call McG-"

"No, I'll do it," Gibbs cut Ziva off as he pulled out his cell and hit the button on his speed dial. Every member of Team Gibbs was on speed dial.

The phone rang, and a part of Gibbs was immediately relieved that it didn't go straight to voicemail. A voice answered after the third ring.

"Uh, hey Boss."

"McGee, where the hell are you?"

McGee winced. Gibbs was pissed. There was nothing scarier than an angry Gibbs, except maybe a Gibbs without coffee. But those were one and the same, really.

Tim honestly didn't know how to tell Gibbs what had happened. He was afraid that Gibbs would blow things out of proportion and freak out, or worse, not understand at all, and come down to the hospital and head-slap Tony and expect that to solve all problems.

"McGee!"

"Sorry, Boss. Look, something's happened… Uh…"

"Spit it out, McGee, I don't have all day!"

"It's Tony, Boss."

"What about him?"

"Well, what I mean is, with everything that's happened, I mean, with Jeanne, and now with Director Sheppard, and… Tony's blaming himself for a lot of things and… What I'm trying to say is… Today… After the funeral and all… He just sort of…"

"He just _what_, McGee?"

McGee pulled the receiver away from his face and sighed. This was it. He had to tell him. Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Say it fast, get it over with.

"He tried to kill himself."

There. He said it.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"Uh, boss? You- You there?" Tim's voice was quiet, nervous.

"Where is he?" Gibbs voice was equally quiet, but his tone was unreadable.

"I- I've got him. I brought him to the hospital. I- I tried to commit suicide a few times when I was a teenager, so I know what to do. He needs an emergency psych evaluation, and… Yeah." He shut up, waiting to see what Gibbs would say.

"Is he- did he hurt himself?" Still quiet. Still unreadable.

"No, he-" Tim had to pause to take a calming breath. He needed to stay calm for Tony. "He tried to shoot himself. But he missed."

Silence.

Silence.

"Boss?"

"Do I need to come?"

"I'm sorry?" Tim asked, unsure of what Gibbs meant.

"To the hospital. Do I need to be there?"

"Oh, no. It's- I'm not sure what's going to happen at this point. There are a couple of possibilities; it depends on what the psychologist says."

"How is he?"

"Boss, I'm not gonna lie," Tim began quietly, as he watched Tony flipping through the latest issue of some muscle magazine from a few feet away, "we messed up. This has obviously been building for a long time, and none of us saw it coming. And I think Tony's hurting far worse than any of us know, but he's so good at hiding it that we can just ignore the signs and keep moving. We ignored the signs, Boss. I ignored the signs. I should've seen them. I lived through all this, I should've known."

"Tim, you can't go blam-"

"I know," McGee uncharacteristically cut his boss off. "I know. I have to stay strong for Tony right now. And I'm going to. But I'm really worried about him, Boss. I don't know how deep this runs. Whenever I try to talk, he reverts back to his jokes and his movie quotes. He keeps flirting with the nurses. I already told him, he can only get better if he wants to, and I think he's so scared of hurting that he won't open up enough to let his pain out."

Tim let out yet another sigh and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. He could only imagine how Gibbs felt.

"I don't know, Boss. I don't know."

"Keep me posted."

"Yeah."

**A/N: Yes, it's been forever!!! Feel free to throw things at me. I know, I'm a terrible writer. I'm also a hypocrite, as I'm guilty of getting mad at people who start stories and never update. I'll not trouble you all with excuses beyond the fact that, honestly, I just could not for the life of me write this chapter. It was like a giant roadblock in the path of this story, and I couldn't get it written until about 30 minutes ago. I'm still not thrilled with it, but it's up, which means I can move on to the stuff that I _can_ write. Woo-hoo! Also, you can now find me on Livejournal at sosimplestars, for those of you that surf around there. Thanks for sticking with me! **


	6. We Are The Few

**A/N: I know, I know, I'm terrible. But I wasn't sure what needed to happen next, and now I have a much clearer idea of where this story is going, so I should be able to force out at least one or two chapters a week. I've got a couple other stories I'm trying to get caught up and finished, so please bear with me. Your support has been overwhelming, and it is really the only reason I've continued this, so this story truly belongs to all of you readers and especially you reviewers.**

"Anthony DiNozzo?"

"That's what they call me," Tony quipped.

"I'm Doctor Laurie," the man said as he entered the room.

"Please don't tell me-"

"No, my first name's not Hugh," Doctor Laurie chuckled. "So, what seems to be the trouble, Anthony?"

"Oh, nothing really. In fact, I feel great!" Tony replied eagerly.

"Really? Because it says here that a few hours ago, you held a gun to your head."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I wasn't feeling so hot then, but like I said, I feel fine now, so…" Tony made to stand up.

"Not so fast, bud," said the Doctor. With a sigh, Tony sat back down.

"So what made you want to shoot yourself?" Tony, suddenly quiet, responded with a shrug.

"You can tell me now, or you can tell me later, but it's easier for both of us if you tell me now."

"Just… stuff at work, I guess," Tony muttered.

"I see," Dr. Laurie intoned, seeming to know that this was all he'd get for now. "Well, Tony, what you did was pretty serious. Pulling a gun on yourself isn't something we take lightly. I'm going to have you admitted to our Adult Psychiatric Unit, and we can take things from there."

"I can't be admitted! It'll show up on my record and they'll never let me back into the field after this!" Tony panicked.

Laurie took a moment to scan through the file in his hand.

"NCIS, right?"

Tony replied with a short nod.

"Well, let's focus on getting you better, then we can sit down and discuss our options," the doctor stated.

"You don't understand, NCIS is my life, and-"

"It wasn't a request, Special Agent DiNozzo," Laurie said firmly, if not unkindly.

After a pause, Tony nodded jerkily.

"Excellent! Well now that's been taken care of, let's get you up to the ward, shall we?"

"Sir, what should I…" Tim trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh, of course! Perhaps you could return to Special Agent DiNozzo's domicile and retrieve some of his personal effects?" Dr. Laurie suggested.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Tim agreed. And after retrieving Tony's keys and a short list of what was needed –"Make sure you grab the blue one, Probie, not the green one"- he left with promises to return in a few hours, and Tony found himself alone with the doctor.

Seconds later, a middle aged nurse entered the room, rolling a wheelchair in front of her. Tony looked around in confusion, unable to understand what the chair was there for.

"This is Nurse Angela, and she'll be taking you up to the ward," Dr. Laurie explained.

"Why the wheelchair? I can walk just fine. It's my head that's screwed up, Doc, not my legs."

"I know that, Special Agent DiNozzo, however, you've been admitted to the hospital. It's a requirement."

Nurse Angela then walked over to where Tony was seated and fitted a plastic hospital bracelet on his wrist.

"Alright, hon, into the chair you go," she coaxed.

After a momentary pause of reluctance, Tony settled himself into the wheelchair.

"Well, this is where I take my leave, but I'll see you upstairs at some point or other," Dr. Laurie explained. "Take care, Special Agent DiNozzo."

Tony didn't have a chance to respond before the Doctor was out the door, off to help some other hapless head case.

"Alright, sir, off we go." Nurse Angela rolled Tony into the elevator, pressed the button for floor number five, and rolled him back out upon their arrival. They moved down an empty hallway to a door with a plaque that read "5 North Adult Psychiatric Ward". Nurse Angela pressed a button on an intercom next to the door. A cheery voice answered.

"Yes?"

"Nurse Angela, RN number 680708, with patient Anthony DiNozzo."

* * *

Tim took a deep breath to steady himself before he opened the door to the Porsche. It had been a long, emotionally havoc-wreaking day, and there was still a lot more to deal with before it was over.

As he was starting the car, Tim's cell rang. The caller ID read "Gibbs", and Tim paused a moment to collect himself before flipping open the phone with a sigh.

"Hey boss."

"McGee. Sit rep."

"Well, Tony's been admitted to the inpatient psychiatric ward, which is what I expected would happen."

"Expected, McGee?" Gibbs' voice was a little harsh.

"Well, I mean, I… What I mean to say is…" McGee fumbled.

"Spit it out, McGee!"

"It's not my first time dealing with this, boss. I know how it works. I… I've been admitted before." Tim heaved a silent sigh. He had been hoping to avoid ever telling Gibbs about that particular part of his history. He didn't need Gibbs to think he was weaker than he probably already did.

"When?" Gibbs' voice was suddenly unnaturally tight.

"Once, when I was sixteen. Twice at seventeen." Tim replied in a clipped tone.

"Aw, hell, Tim, I didn't-"

"It's fine, Boss," Tim interrupted quickly, uncomfortable with the sudden odd display of emotion from his boss. "It was a long time ago." Gibbs knew his cue to change the subject.

"So what happens now?"

"They'll keep Tony in the hospital, most likely for a few days, maybe longer, depends on what the doctor decides, and how Tony progresses. I'm going over to his place now to pick up some clothes and stuff."

"What's your ETA?"

"I'm about fifteen minutes out. Depends on traffic."

"Okay. And… Thank you, Tim."

Tim was momentarily stunned into silence.

"No- no problem, Boss."

But Gibbs had already hung up.


End file.
